I spend my time writing, word after word.Letter after letter the words form a world.Built from the ground up with a foundation of text.Fleshed out with biographies and character tests.Some may call it addiction, obsession.I call it opportunity and self-expression.

I want to create something that is truly mine.Whether that be through complex writing or rhyme.I want to find my place in the world or make one.Whether I'm well known or not I couldn't comment on.As long as I made someone smile or inspired them to be more.I'll be happy with everything I did, forever a good score.

Because when I write I create something new.A cluster of words together whether many or few.Which tell a special message and show a new story.To the people reading who deserve something worthy.I want to change, experiment and innovate.The ways we write, communicate and emote.

Everything you believe in is eternally yours.Everything you enjoy is eternally yours.Everything you chose to do is eternally yours.Your every emotion and word is eternally yours.Everything you write is eternally yours.Every single letter is eternally yours.

E v e r y s i n g l e l e t t e r i s y o u r s <3

If writing has taught me anything it's that you're your own person; so be proud of that and do what you want- Peter

PS: This is my second version of the poem, which is ****** annoying because I had the first version perfect but accidentally deleted it. So hey, there you go. I'm still frustrated now. I mean, it's terrible compared to the original. Grumble, grumble, grumble...

We're awakened to our insatiable longing for heaventhrough both beauty and the painful marring of it.For beauty hints to us of that for which we are truly made, and its marring shouts that we are truly not meant to find it here.

We can be eternally grateful for beauty lost when we realize that it's one of the great secret-tellers of the universe.Still we fear it so and often fear even to hope for the beauty itself,though they are a necessary cycle that fuels us on and drives us home.

We cannot deny or diminish our intense longing for beauty--to see it and have it and be it, and we cannot pretend that its dreadful loss does not press down upon us like a crushing weight.We must let it crush us until our ache for heaven is excruciating.

Strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives,across the chasmed centuries gone past,he calls her name; it never quite arrivesto fall upon her ear. Just at the last,she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.The fading echoes rebound, fall, despairupon the careless earth, alone who knowshow many times he's haunted up her stairsand stood before her door, unwilling handhung limply at his side. The heavy yearspassed by them both again; he hadn't plannedthat they would not meet. This chance disappears to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,a karmic double-helix twists through time.They spiral 'round, attracted and repelledby cosmic force, the space between definedas two arms' lengths apart. Their fingertipswill brush by chance; the spark that generatesignites the kindling lust, the heated lipswhich speak the wildfire words of love. The fatesdictate the places, times where their paths cross;circumstances, consequences feedthe choices made. They've chosen fire, the lossof reason, stoking starving naked need,dance with abandon, passion, without pride;they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.The pas de deux began in ancient courtof some small city-state. He is a knightsent by his Queen, a diplomatic sortof mission. At a dinner hosted bythe local King, the knight, while taking inwho might be helpful or a hindrance spiesa shaken mane of gold, blue eyes withinher stunning face, struck slack with ennuiuntil she meets his eyes. An eyebrow lifts,a corner of her mouth curls up, unseenby all save the old man beside. He shifts,and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;returned. You want each other? Very well!So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.She will be linked to you, eternallyyours, to have, to hold and never love;to consummate and quench your lust will beyour death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!I hereby mate your everlasting souls;condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,passion's heat incinerates you whole.You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.You'll die for her; she'll bring you to her kneesacross uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seasuncounted years of wandering, he seeksasylum from the memory of her eyes.The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,wildest fingers raking skin from back,ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lackwhatever power it would take to smashhis crushing need. An aching pilgrimage,life spent in shameless chase to slake the lustimposed by jealous wizard in his rage.Now weak and old, he walks alone through dustand sandstorm, seeking solace, final restin desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breathshe oversees construction of her tomb.Her father started it; upon his death,she left the mage to build the solemn roomof memory. The waves of slaves pour sweatin rivers onto stones, their muscles screamand ripple in the undulating heat.Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseenby all but her. She mounts and rides to bringsome water, some relief. When their eyes meet,their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,his failing body falls about her feet.They're found again, and still there's no release; not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;she lived another twenty years beyond.His final glance of longing gave no peace,but chained her in the everlasting bondof arcane condemnation. Her ****** heartis pierced by passing seconds, every onea blunted needle, mildly poisoned dartnot strong enough to stop her pulse's run.The mage's gift to her: the agonyof life remembering her lover's kiss,then a death too short to set her free.It sends her toward another fatal tryst,spun round again the universe's width;their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,a dance with destiny. They wake againto unfamiliar bodies, unknown pathsmeandering across the haunted plainof time. A muddy pasture, half a millionblissful stoners join in raucous song:"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run****** lovers who can do no wrong,all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smackruns out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;he huddles close, awaiting the next stackof Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.She cries and rocks his body, they will spoonthroughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoonas heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,cooler air meets skin on fire, a boonto Magdalene and lover. The sweet oilwashes off, the rain obscures the soundof marching feet. Centurions approachand ****** him from her side. "So now you're foundbeside this one, whose last ride gave us suchan evil time. We strung him up, but nowhis body's gone, and you were seen besidethe tomb. You'll die just as he did, and how."She watched another man be crucified.Supported by her love, he passed in peacesuspended in expectant spring's embrace.

Suspended in expectant spring's embrace,the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloomis laid out for the party. Every faceis rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,Vive le roi! One teasing courtierseduces a queen's guard to leave his post.Behind a hedge, they make love unawareof peasants, women milling through the gatein search of bread and royal blood, not cake.He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;the mob will **** for revolution's sake.The oaks a silent witness to his doomin autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sunupon the biodomes. Earth shines down, ruinedby man's neglect, what could not be undone.The population by law zero sum;resource conservation held abovethe joy of new life. Parents here must cometo know the anguish of requited love.She bears his child; they knew too well the chancethey took. The court will force a choice be made:the father or the child. A tear, a glanceas he's locked out. She watches as he fadesin cryogenic punishment, life lashedto winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fasther soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleettoward her cloistered cell. One chilling blastwraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind preventsher gaining purchase on the frozen ground.From monastery cot, the monk could sensedistress. In thin burnoose he dashed and foundher, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her upand rushed her to the hearth. His warm embracebrings on familiar heat. Their pasts stirred up,relived, decision made within a trace: "'Tis best this time we live, and never start."Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;the aching need grows stronger day by day.He tends her failing health without regardto duty, vows. Her weak voice strains to say,"I will be gone before you this time. Hearme out; this may be what we need to breakour curse. Stay with me as my time grows near;and love me as the Reaper comes to takemy soul, and finish with me after Ihave left. God will forgive sins we'll commitfor man alone has ****** us. We must tryor curse ourselves, continue to submitto endless pain, remain just as we are:connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,they cling to every moment here and now;the priceless beating of her failing heart,his passions roil out in unending flow.He gazes deep in her eternal eyesas they glaze over, looking past his faceinto the hollow stare of death. She liessuspended between life and time and space,to hear an old, familiar voice sound inher ears. "To dance with death before himas you rut...how clever! Most astoundingthat you'd carry out this futile whim.He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines;strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives."

For those of you who knew about this...thanks for your patience. For those who didn't...this is where much of my creative energy has gone for the past 10 months. This is the first draft; revisions and refinements will inevitably follow. I can usually write a sonnet in about an hour; silly me...I thought this would take me a day or two at worst.

A wild flight into drizzled dark nightThe chorus line thumpingOvercome by roar and strainOf metal tested to limits as we raceAn endless risk disregarded as thoughtAnd the sound of a bright giggleWondrous eyes lit in thrill of threatFear has no place in this setting

A manic gleam and set to her faceSharing a secret as we laugh and howlBecause this is who we areFor all out control and desireWe scream endlessly through life eternally silentUntil we do not have to beAnd in glory we release!

Fear is a thing to be learntA feeling to ******* and freezeIs it felt here?A resounding no! Shatters the questionIn the screech of tiresIn the surge of adrenalineIn the wild savage smile of freedomOf a shout into the night in defiance of order!

Does my heart race as we tear around?Not even a tremor! Until I turn,My face from the moaning wind rushing pastAnd i gaze upon this savage exposedLips pulled back in ferocious gleeA focused and fierce glare to the worldWe deny life and taunt the spectreCome to us, we cry!

The paths are slick with tears of the godsThe roads tempestuous writhing in deceitI sit in peace, relaxedA warrior companion at my sideWe know no fear of what may comeFor trustAh trustIs the colour of lifeEver shadowed as a challenge to endings!

She lights as a fire of the brightest starsAnd i would embrace herBurning endlessly.

Dear Readers, concept of Time has bewildered our ancient sages, philosophers, poets, artists, including our famous scientists and physicists even to this day. It has no doubt also impacted my mind in several ways! Therefore, this series about the ‘Enigma of Time In Verse’ is now being composed and posted to share my thoughts with my Poet friends on this Site. If you like it kindly re-post this poem. Thanking You, - Raj Nandy from New Delhi.

THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE : PART ONEBY RAJ NANDY

A SHORT INTRODUCTION

During my childhood days, time appeared to be joyful and endless.Though my parents had observed the clock all the while,Telling me when to rise, when to eat, play, do my homework, -till it was my bed time.Alas, my childhood days as cherished memories are now left behind. With rest of the world I am now chasing that winged arrow of Time!

Those Management Gurus say, that our twenty four hours day,Is time enough for those who can manage time from day to day.Yet I do find, that I am generally chasing time, not to be left behind!Hoping that a full time job will provide, some quality time, with the desired comforts of life.Therefore, I abide my time, hoping to have the time of my life one day, with some quality time coming my way.But in this mad race against time, while chasing that butterfly of happiness,I must learn to cool down and breathe, before time decides to elude me!For with patience and perseverance, that butterfly of happiness, will alight gently on my shoulder in good time, and perhaps at the right time!While time is universally regarded as the fourth dimension by our physicists, It is said to flow at different rates for different individuals as mentioned by Shakespeare the English dramatist.

FEW LITERARY QUOTES ABOUT TIME

In ‘As You Like It’ Act 3, Shakespeare refers to ‘the swift steps’ and the ‘lazy foot’of time in a relativistic way.Time ‘trots’ for a young woman between her engagement and marriage when a week feels like seven years for her every day!Time ‘ambles’ for a priest who doesn’t know Latin and a rich man without gout;Since the priest is spared the burden of exhausting study, and the rich man is spared the burden of exhausting poverty - no doubt.But time ‘gallops’ for a thief walking to the gallows, for even if he walks slowly, he happens to gets there too soon!While time ‘stands still’ for lawyers on vacation, since he sleeps his holidays away!

Now moving forward to Einstein who once described his ‘Theory of Relativity’ very humorously in the following way; -“When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute, you think it’s two hours,” he had said with a chuckle!

Getting back to Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ Act One on that blasted heath,Macbeth asks the three witches, “If you can look into the seeds of Time,And say which grain will grow and which will not,Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear…” And finally that brilliant piece of soliloquy about Time by Macbeth in Act 5:“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death….”

John Milton’s poem ‘On Time’ composed in 1930 ends with his optimistic lines:“Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace ….. When once our heavenly-guided soul shall clime, Then all this Earthly grossness quit, Attired with Stars, we shall forever sit Triumphing over Death and Chance, and thee O Time.”

Alexander Pope in his ‘Imitations of Horace’ (1738) writes:“Years following years steal something every day, At last they steal us from ourselves away.”Romantic poets have dealt with the transience of time, which got popularised by the Latin phrase ‘Carpe diem’ which tells us to ‘seize the day’;This Latin phrase has been borrowed from the Roman lyrical poet Horace of ancient days.

Charles Dickens’ novel ‘Hard Times’ is an autobiography describing his difficult childhood days.While the famous opening lines of his historical novel ‘A Tale of Two Cites’ take us back to 18th century London and Paris under times sway.I quote Dickens’ memorable opening lines:"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us ......”

We have the Nobel Laureate Tagore’s well known poetic lines on the subject of Time:“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”“Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of leaf.”He described the Taj Mahal as “a tear drop on the cheek of Time,” in his unique poetic style!

TS Eliot’s ‘Four Quarters’ of 1935, include extended rumination on the nature of Time:“Time present and time past, Are both perhaps present in time future. And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present, All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility, Only in a world of speculation….”(Notes: This concept will become clearer in my Part Two, presently under construction.)

Next I have a quote from WH Auden’s poem ‘As I Walked Out One Evening’composed in 1937:“But all the clocks in the city Began to whirr and chime: O let not Time deceive you. You cannot conquer Time.”

Subject of Time forms an important part of science fiction even to this day.HG Well’s ‘The Time Machine’ (1895) interests both the layman and the Scientific community even today!Finally, I would like to conclude my Part One on ‘The Enigma of Time in Verse’ with my favourite poem composed by the British poet Ralph Hodgson:

TIME, you old gipsy man, Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day?

All things I'll give you Will you be my guest, Bells for your jennet Of silver the best, Goldsmiths shall beat you A great golden ring, Peacocks shall bow to you, Little boys sing, Oh, and sweet girls will Festoon you with may. Time, you old gipsy, Why hasten away?

Last week in Babylon, Last night in Rome, Morning, and in the crush Under Paul's dome; Under Paul's dial You tighten your rein— Only a moment, And off once again; Off to some city Now blind in the womb, Off to another Ere that's in the tomb.

Time, you old gipsy man, Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day.

In Part Two I shall cover the Concepts of Time along with its Philosophical speculations.Before moving on to Einstein’s concept of Time, and its present Scientific interpretations.Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.

Is my soul the way I laugh?I laugh from the deepest part of me,joyfully celebrating my life.Is my soul the way I cry?I cry from the deepest part of me,embracing the pain my life delivers me.Is my soul the way I listen?I listen from the deepest part of me,learning everything life has to teach me.Is my soul the way I speak?I speak from the deepest part of me,telling life exactly what I think of it.Is my soul the way I hate?I hate from the deepest part of me,turning away all those who've hurt me?Is my soul the way I love?I love from the deepest part of me,Eternally bound to those people I care about.Is my soul solely my own?Is it possible to speak, to cry, to love alone?Is my soul a piece of God in me?Is my soul only mine because I have faith?

One night, Omar began to thunder on: "No more of the disgusting concepts and ideas created by the Pigs! We should eliminate from our minds every single Pig that is influencing you, and I must say to you all, that I'm not seeing any progress." The audience suddenly went all quiet. Our leader was not satisfied with our emotional progress. We were not purifying our minds in a manner and speed that was satisfactory to the Great Noble Leader Omar. "I am looking at you all. I see you; yes, I, Omar, see each one of you. Your eyeballs seem to me to be unsure of what's behind them – I mean, your brains." Omar's voice began to talk in a tone that was almost a whisper, whilst the vast audience strained their ears to catch his every precious word. "And inside your brains lies our minds. Well, I'm talking about your minds, my friends. I'm not seeing progress. Yes, you do this riot; you **** this Pig; you burn this Pig school – and all of these acts are crucial to our holy cause. But, what about you yourselves? What about your own minds? Maybe you, too, are tainted with some of the Pig mentality yourselves? Now, how about that? Yes? What do you think?" The audience gasped. Omar began to raise his voice again. He was taunting this audience. Mocking them. Sarcastic. "Why, you really are telling me, that you think and feel and believe, that you have the right to **** Pigs?" At this question, Omar stopped. The audience gasped louder. I knew what they were thinking. Is our Great Noble Leader questioning our faith in him and in the cause itself?! He screamed, almost blowing away the microphones! "Why, who gives you the right to be soldiers in this unforgiving, merciless and ferocious war we are waging every day against vastly superior forces? I'll tell you 'who' gives you that right." The audience waited in tense anticipation at our leader's answer. It was so silent in this vast stadium, you could hear a pin fall. "What gives every man, woman and child the right to be a soldier in this brutal struggle is when that soldier has the purest heart and mind. It's as simple as that. And to be 'pure', my friends tonight, is the one who has not a shred, and does not have one ounce of Pig matter. That's right, you heard. Pig matter. Any dog that has even a fleeting Pig thought, is a Pig him or herself!" The audience now began to whisper among themselves. They seemed to be receiving the light from the words being delivered by Omar. Many were saying among themselves, that, 'Yes, we do have Pig thought and ideas and emotions and feelings in our hearts.'

Omar continued, in a soft voice, after allowing his audience to digest his last words: "Yes, that does come as a surprise to you, doesn't it?" "Yes!" roared back the audience who now fully submitted to his question and answer. "So, I ask you – who are you?" he screamed! And the crowds immediately screamed: "Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! We are ***** Pigs!" Again and again, the crowd seemed to be going a little bit hysterical. Some began tearing off their clothes, as if they were trying to 'cleanse' themselves from their Pig thoughts! "That's right!" screamed back Omar, furiously and wildly staring with those maniacal eyeballs, like some trapped, ferocious animal, at his audience: "Why you yourselves are Pigs! That's right! Come on now! So, what are going to do about you? If you give yourselves the 'right' to **** Pigs, then why don't I have the same 'right' to order my best elite troops to **** you too?" "Save us! Save us!" screamed back the audience. "Save yourselves!" Omar screamed right back. "We are filthy! We are Pigs!" the audience began to insult themselves in all sorts of words and phrases. At this point, Omar was shrieking! "That's right! You are filthy Pigs yourselves, aren't you now?” The audience continued to scream and you couldn’t understand what they were saying anymore. Omar went just as suddenly silent. He just looked at his followers, and allowed them the need to express themselves. After some twenty minutes o this chaotic screaming, Omar became impatient and quickly motioned his followers to be quiet. Silence. He continued, with a soft tone: “So, I hereby announce the following." Once again the entire audience become tense. What was Omar going to order now? "I hereby allow you all, and I mean all our soldiers and not just those sitting with me here in this stadium; I order all of our soldiers to purify themselves of every Pig matter. You will have three months. And then, after that term ends, we will establish courts, to decide wether you have succeeded in cleaning yourselves from these cancerous and murderous feelings and emotions you have. Our courts and our hallowed judges will next decide, case by case, wether you are clean or not!"

Later, when it appeared that our mostly pathetic, ***** and sick 'soldiers' were simply unable to cleanse their minds from the Pig establishment in three months – since they had no instructions or guidance - Omar, in his eternal grace, patience and humanity, decided to help them, by allowing classes to be held where one teacher would help each and everyone to 'cleanse' themselves. Personally, I thought that our Great Noble Leader was decidedly wrong in being so gracious to these so-called soldiers, because, in my opinion, this lot were not worthy of being in our party, and they ought to have been immediately expelled. "But, Sara," Omar would gently explain to me in his humble office, surrounded by his most trusted officers, "if we were to purge every undesirable element in the party, I would be left with practically nobody!" I took in his gracious words. and then thought about it. Why, he was correct, yet again, in his thinking! Indeed, if we did purify our party from the filthy ones, we would be left with little more than a handful of true, faithful and clean combatants and that, obviously, meant our self-destruction! "You're right, Sir; as usual, I think too hastily. That's why you are the only leader for us; my God, if I, God forbid, were leader, why I would have destroyed the party and our eternally holy cause years ago!" "Indeed, indeed, my dear," Omar softly said, but he seemed to have already forgotten my words, and, he was already somewhere else, thinking deeply about another problem. And so I, of course, went silent, so as not to disturb him.

"You know what?" suddenly he asked me, his eyes sparkling with passion. "Yes, Sir?" "These 'classes' I was talking about. You've studied psychiatry, and I believe that we must use psychiatric methods to purify my subjects." Suddenly a strange feeling overcame me; I found the word describing the party members as 'my subjects' a little bit odd. Also, didn't Omar call psychiatry a Pig subject for all those years? Indeed, he said everything they taught us at university was evil, and that even the institutions of universities were dens of evil. And, yet, now, he was asking me to help him using what I was learning from my university days? "Yes, I can see the path I am talking about Sara. We need to get psychiatrists, like yourself, to tear out, yes, tear out, the filthiness in our party members." Suddenly, he got quite excited by his visions. "That's right, my dearest one, Sara. Yes, and I appoint you to supervise this programme of purification. That's right, and I shall call it by its simplest name, the 'Programme of Purification'!" Suddenly, I got excited as well, forgetting my previous disturbance. "That would be such a heroic move on your part, Sir." I gleefully told Omar. I feel that not only was he the saviour for our nation, but that he was also a personal saviour for myself. "Yes, I see my vision where it is leading us to. My dear Sara; you will set up these classes and you will bring the psychiatrists and you will purify the ***** elements in our classes." I got nervous again, for I just realized the magnitude of the job Saviour Omar was demanding I do for him! "And therefore, I Omar call for an immediate ceasefire against all Pigs!" Everyone in the office stood there in a state of shock! A ceasefire against the damnable Pigs?! Holy Omar could, of course, read our faces and smiled. "But Holy Sir," one officer softly asked, "how can we have a ceasefire against the most evil forces in the history of our country?" "And, Sir," asked another officer, "if we stop our eternally pure and humanistic battle against the disease-ridden pigs, wouldn't the latter take that as a sign of weakness on our part?" Next, saviour Omar raised his hand. Everyone went silent. He looked at us. There were no words from his mouth. We waited humbly. Geniuses take their time to formulate the right structure of words, not because they don't know what to say, but they do so that we fools can understand what they have to say. It is out of concern for us. Omar finally spoke: My clean, pure soldiers. We must declare a ceasefire, for I have no other choice. As a humanist, how can I allow impure elements from our party to fight and **** Pigs, when they themselves are still 'impure'? Where is the morality in that?" Suddenly, I couldn't help but feel such fanatical love for this man; I can only describe his man and his words, as pieces of Heaven coming down to us inferior beings, and if we are decent, then we must grab every shred and piece that he utters, so we can, in turn, save our impure souls. "Beautiful thoughts indeed, my Gracious Leader!" I said. Then I turned to the listeners: "What's wrong with the rest of you? If, one of our 'own' party members was impure, then by what right does he and she have to fight and **** Pigs? We must cease all out activities, until we have a purified party! It's simple and obvious!" Thereupon followed silence.

I was speaking the obvious. Finally, a voice spoke: "So, how exactly are these psychologists going to 'purify' the 'minds' of our party members?" Good question – one that I had not thought about. Indeed, how, and by what means, were we going to purify the undesirables? And then, just at the right moment, Omar spoke his words: "Yes, that is a great question. There's no use giving orders that no one knows how they are to be carried out. You see, it will not only be the job of psychiatrists who will purify the filthy ones. No, we will force the filthy ones, to ***** out every filthy thought, feeling, and idea; and we shall make sure that all these impure thoughts and feelings and convictions will be screamed out of their minds." At that last phrase, once again, I found myself pausing and thinking, what an odd thing to say! I got lost in my thinking. After all, Omar always, and I mean always choose his words carefully, for he would always make it a point to be so careful with the choice of his words, so that his credibility would never be in doubt and so people do understand that that he means exactly whatever he says. I must confess, I was completely confused. On the one hand, I had such deep reverence, complete love and a total need for Omar, and then, there was a part of me, that simply didn’t understand what he was talking about! I remembered, once more, how everything was so nice and easy and simple with Tony. But, I assume, that Tony was a general doctor, whereas Omar was a surgeon, and so, with Omar, we had to face a far more complex situation. "What do you mean by that, Sir?" asked one of the officers, waking me up from my thoughts. "I mean, it shall be the duty of every party member to purify every other party member. We must all be psychiatrists! This will be done, of course, under the supervision of the leader psychiatrist in each class. He or she will guide you, as to how to get every party member to rip out every Pig attribute in our party members. It's as simple as that." At that, Omar gestured to indicate that the meeting was over, and so we left. I kept thinking that his idea was, I'm sure, utterly brilliant, but how in practice were going to do this?

He left his office far too soon. We had too many questions to ask, and yet, by leaving us, Omar was, in effect, giving us a 'programme' to do, but without clear, precise orders. So, how were we going to carry out his orders? What did he mean that 'we must all become psychiatrists'! That was absolutely absurd! Untrained people cannot simply 'become' psychiatrists, even if they are 'led' by psychiatrists – or to use Omar's words, to be 'guided' by psychiatrists. So, Omar's idea seemed to me, to be really a recipe for a catastrophe for our party. The more I thought of it, the more I found my mind asking myself the question: why was Omar insisting on this 'purification programme' in the first place? Couldn't the party and its members simply continue the struggle, without having to enforce this ridiculous programme? And didn't Omar realize that his insistence on us carrying out his orders to do the purification programme, was going to cause absolute chaos, disruption and ultimately mass desertions and expulsions from our party? In other words, Omar's sudden 'need' to 'purify' our own members seemed to me to be a self destructive act that would seriously damage the party.

The ceasefire announcement was barely noticed by the Pigs – which came as a shock to many of us. The government didn't seem to actually care at our ceasefire announcement. Indeed, the Pigs declared that what they termed as the 'social troubles' was, in effect, 'over' and so, therefore, the country could breathe a sigh of relief, and people could now be 'happy'. I didn't believe what the government was saying. I was of course nauseated by the hypocrisy of the Pig leaders, because, their pronouncements were lies, as usual, and they would of course, continue their merciless war against us, while we had to cease our fire. Yes, Leader Omar was probably correct, but I was **** frustrated, because it seemed to me, for the first time since I joined the party, that the Pigs may now well win the struggle. It was obvious to me! For how on planet earth could we 'win' a war, when we were not allowed to fight, while the same eternal enemy would continue his war against us?! Also, to be very honest, I'm not sure that we could 'purify' Pigs in the first place. It seemed to me to be a contradiction! I would simply have to swallow whatever Leader Omar ordered us to do. God knows, he's proven to be correct every time before, and maybe, he will confound us once more with his superior wisdom. Have faith, Sara, have faith! Never question the Great Leader, for he is superior to all of us; after all, that’s why he’s the ‘Great Leader’ in the first place! Keep the faith! How can we understand what a su

flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles that lead to to miracle touchdowns

~•~

the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity, calling it by its name,perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both

two sets of eyes examine the angle,study its ****** expression

the old man says: see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight?

this is angle of eight o’clock:time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello!

little angel says angle no go and slashes the water with bothhands to establish the firmness of his viewsand change Einstein’s time from present to future

the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer

the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing

but he measures the degree of difference at this intersection of time and bath and blesses it with an identity

“time to go”

the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up, at the twelve o'clock,

as he stands up in fevered protest, my arms sweep his little legs to a point at eight o’clock,angel, commenting on his swift flight disputes the grandfathers physics

"no go now,now go later^"

though the angle is unchanged the perspective of time and space(and traffic),yet differs

one sees an angle,the angel sees timeeternally folding in on itself

that is the angle amongst us

^Surprising as it may be to most non-scientists and even to some scientists, Albert Einstein concluded in his later years that the past, present, and future all exist simultaneously. In 1952, in his book Relativity, in discussing Minkowski's Space World interpretation of his theory of relativity, Einstein writes:

Since there exists in this four dimensional structure [space-time] no longer any sections which represent "now" objectively, the concepts of happening and becoming are indeed not completely suspended, but yet complicated. It appears therefore more natural to think of physical reality as a four dimensional existence, instead of, as hitherto, the evolution of a three dimensional existence.

Ah, you see bad dreams,If you shut your eyes, then go to sleep, alone, terrified of the landscape of the built fantasies within the realm of wonderful dreamsBut not even when you're awake you can be save, the nightmares are departing, becoming your reality, if you'd never wake up once you go to bed at night, of course you'd concider it to be more than alright...The innocence of an angel, is a given once you have passed out,Because this world feels so unreal, that the imaginated landscape has more truth to it than the wandering amongst an earth with falsities,Just make sure I wouldn't die, I murmured to my darling as I was swept away, by the wonderous embrace of a soft blanket covering meWith spring dreams blooming eternally, you could fly through spaceBut a dream may always behold, a world of nightmares never seen before, hidden in a wonderland where they crawl into ****** despairOnce you have closed your eyes, it is called a good night, but remember, your demon, your otherside awaits you in a place with no end, yet no beginning, once you become exhausted as if it was hell,But even the embrace of such bad dreams seems better than the depression, monsters and cruelty of reality you're escaping from...So you keep visiting this world more often longer each passing dayWhat are you seeing in my reddish eyes ? Can I say good morning now, Darling ?For now, let's say have a good sleep.

he snaps his barbed jaws made of thin sticks— you knowthe kind thatSNAP and CRACK ominously underfoot when the woods have grown tooquiet, too calm, for all to be wellteeth gnashing— this the sound of dead leaves skittering against pavement and river rocks at dusk (that time when you need to settle down and get a fire started, but you’re not quite sure of where you are) homelesswandering the woods in search for something he will never findhysterical, eternally lost his

eyes

are the dim, barely there glow of camp fires that go out too earlyfingers the cold that creeps around the base of your sleeping bag and along your neckcheek bones the sun-bleached sides of mountains his voice is the unrecognizable call from some animal you cannot identify in the depths of the woods, but not so deep that you cannot imagine it coming towards you. not so deep that the sound doesn’t make your hair stand on end.

his feet are bound with the ghost skins of snakes that lurk under rocks, darting out only when you have one foot precariously balanced on its side.

he travels — howling and yowling like some hell cat out of deepmountain lore— starved, half crazed, ravenousfever hot and parchedhis mouth a voracious, vacuous, vorpal cavethat leads down into his river stomach— that part of the river you thought was deep, but revealed its true nature with the electric sting of broken legs after jumping.his howl is the pounding of the wind at your tentangry hands running broken glass claws against your skin as you walk against it.

he is jealous of those who wonder the wood for he has no true home.his ribs the skeletons of eerie, too thick mountain laurel trees and the hollow shells of long fallen oaks.the light of the moon burns his moth-wing skin on nights when the forest is full of her radiance. so he yowls, furious and powerlessrattling and shaking his bones — the dead arms of trees that stretch out over too steep mountains, acid burnt and raw

his name could have been pestilence to the christiansbut only the Natives know his name and only whisper it lowlyand on nights when the wind is calm and he cannot hear their summons—Windigo.

his only purpose is that he has none.his motivation is endless hungerthat is older than the mountain itself-or maybe it was born with the mountain…he in his rabid madness has long forgotten the origin of his emptiness.he is hungry, and you are in his wood.

When I see you, my heart skips a beat. When I'm within your embrace, I can feel the heat. Our love is filled with desire. So intense, it overflows the room with Fire.When I'm surrounded by the flames of our undying emotion,I sense our eternal devotion.When I gaze into your eyes,I see the beauty deep within your spirit.My emotions run fathomless.Every kiss leaves me gasping for my breath.I'm drugged by your never ending passion.Your loves holding me here captive.I leave my heart and soul to you.I am eternally yours.

(ll. 1-6) Muse, tell me the deeds of golden Aphrodite theCyprian, who stirs up sweet passion in the gods and subdues thetribes of mortal men and birds that fly in air and all the manycreatures that the dry land rears, and all the sea: all theselove the deeds of rich-crowned Cytherea.

(ll. 7-32) Yet there are three hearts that she cannot bend noryet ensnare. First is the daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis,bright-eyed Athene; for she has no pleasure in the deeds ofgolden Aphrodite, but delights in wars and in the work of Ares,in strifes and battles and in preparing famous crafts. She firsttaught earthly craftsmen to make chariots of war and carsvariously wrought with bronze, and she, too, teaches tendermaidens in the house and puts knowledge of goodly arts in eachone's mind. Nor does laughter-loving Aphrodite ever tame in loveArtemis, the huntress with shafts of gold; for she loves archeryand the slaying of wild beasts in the mountains, the lyre alsoand dancing and thrilling cries and shady woods and the cities ofupright men. Nor yet does the pure maiden Hestia loveAphrodite's works. She was the first-born child of wily Cronosand youngest too (24), by will of Zeus who holds the aegis, -- aqueenly maid whom both Poseidon and Apollo sought to wed. Butshe was wholly unwilling, nay, stubbornly refused; and touchingthe head of father Zeus who holds the aegis, she, that fairgoddess, sware a great oath which has in truth been fulfilled,that she would be a maiden all her days. So Zeus the Father gaveher an high honour instead of marriage, and she has her place inthe midst of the house and has the richest portion. In all thetemples of the gods she has a share of honour, and among allmortal men she is chief of the goddesses.

(ll. 33-44) Of these three Aphrodite cannot bend or ensnare thehearts. But of all others there is nothing among the blessedgods or among mortal men that has escaped Aphrodite. Even theheart of Zeus, who delights in thunder, is led astray by her;though he is greatest of all and has the lot of highest majesty,she beguiles even his wise heart whensoever she pleases, andmates him with mortal women, unknown to Hera, his sister and hiswife, the grandest far in beauty among the deathless goddesses --most glorious is she whom wily Cronos with her mother Rhea didbeget: and Zeus, whose wisdom is everlasting, made her his chasteand careful wife.

(ll. 45-52) But upon Aphrodite herself Zeus cast sweet desire tobe joined in love with a mortal man, to the end that, very soon,not even she should be innocent of a mortal's love; lestlaughter-loving Aphrodite should one day softly smile and saymockingly among all the gods that she had joined the gods in lovewith mortal women who bare sons of death to the deathless gods,and had mated the goddesses with mortal men.

(ll. 53-74) And so he put in her heart sweet desire for Anchiseswho was tending cattle at that time among the steep hills ofmany-fountained Ida, and in shape was like the immortal gods. Therefore, when laughter-loving Aphrodite saw him, she loved him,and terribly desire seized her in her heart. She went to Cyprus,to Paphos, where her precinct is and fragrant altar, and passedinto her sweet-smelling temple. There she went in and put to theglittering doors, and there the Graces bathed her with heavenlyoil such as blooms upon the bodies of the eternal gods -- oildivinely sweet, which she had by her, filled with fragrance. Andlaughter-loving Aphrodite put on all her rich clothes, and whenshe had decked herself with gold, she left sweet-smelling Cyprusand went in haste towards Troy, swiftly travelling high up amongthe clouds. So she came to many-fountained Ida, the mother ofwild creatures and went straight to the homestead across themountains. After her came grey wolves, fawning on her, and grim-eyed lions, and bears, and fleet leopards, ravenous for deer: andshe was glad in heart to see them, and put desire in their*******, so that they all mated, two together, about the shadowycoombes.

(ll. 75-88) (25) But she herself came to the neat-built shelters,and him she found left quite alone in the homestead -- the heroAnchises who was comely as the gods. All the others werefollowing the herds over the grassy pastures, and he, left quitealone in the homestead, was roaming hither and thither andplaying thrillingly upon the lyre. And Aphrodite, the daughterof Zeus stood before him, being like a pure maiden in height andmien, that he should not be frightened when he took heed of herwith his eyes. Now when Anchises saw her, he marked her well andwondered at her mien and height and shining garments. For shewas clad in a robe out-shining the brightness of fire, a splendidrobe of gold, enriched with all manner of needlework, whichshimmered like the moon over her tender *******, a marvel to see.

Also she wore twisted brooches and shining earrings in the formof flowers; and round her soft throat were lovely necklaces.

(ll. 91-105) And Anchises was seized with love, and said to her:'Hail, lady, whoever of the blessed ones you are that are come tothis house, whether Artemis, or Leto, or golden Aphrodite, orhigh-born Themis, or bright-eyed Athene. Or, maybe, you are oneof the Graces come hither, who bear the gods company and arecalled immortal, or else one of those who inhabit this lovelymountain and the springs of rivers and grassy meads. I will makeyou an altar upon a high peak in a far seen place, and willsacrifice rich offerings to you at all seasons. And do you feelkindly towards me and grant that I may become a man very eminentamong the Trojans, and give me strong offspring for the time tocome. As for my own self, let me live long and happily, seeingthe light of the sun, and come to the threshold of old age, a manprosperous among the people.'

(ll. 106-142) Thereupon Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answeredhim: 'Anchises, most glorious of all men born on earth, know thatI am no goddess: why do you liken me to the deathless ones? Nay,I am but a mortal, and a woman was the mother that bare me. Otreus of famous name is my father, if so be you have heard ofhim, and he reigns over all Phrygia rich in fortresses. But Iknow your speech well beside my own, for a Trojan nurse broughtme up at home: she took me from my dear mother and reared methenceforth when I was a little child. So comes it, then, that Iwell know you tongue also. And now the Slayer of Argus with thegolden wand has caught me up from the dance of huntress Artemis,her with the golden arrows. For there were many of us, nymphsand marriageable (26) maidens, playing together; and aninnumerable company encircled us: from these the Slayer of Arguswith the golden wand rapt me away. He carried me over manyfields of mortal men and over much land untilled and unpossessed,where savage wild-beasts roam through shady coombes, until Ithought never again to touch the life-giving earth with my feet. And he said that I should be called the wedded wife of Anchises,and should bear you goodly children. But when he had told andadvised me, he, the strong Slayer of Argos, went back to thefamilies of the deathless gods, while I am now come to you: forunbending necessity is upon me. But I beseech you by Zeus and byyour noble parents -- for no base folk could get such a son asyou -- take me now, stainless and unproved in love, and show meto your father and careful mother and to your brothers sprungfrom the same stock. I shall be no ill-liking daughter for them,but a likely. Moreover, send a messenger quickly to the swift-horsed Phrygians, to tell my father and my sorrowing mother; andthey will send you gold in plenty and woven stuffs, many splendidgifts; take these as bride-piece. So do, and then prepare thesweet marriage that is honourable in the eyes of men anddeathless gods.'

(ll. 143-144) When she had so spoken, the goddess put sweetdesire in his heart. And Anchises was seized with love, so thathe opened his mouth and said:

(ll. 145-154) 'If you are a mortal and a woman was the mother whobare you, and Otreus of famous name is your father as you say,and if you are come here by the will of Hermes the immortalGuide, and are to be called my wife always, then neither god normortal man shall here restrain me till I have lain with you inlove right now; no, not even if far-shooting Apollo himselfshould launch grievous shafts from his silver bow. Willinglywould I go down into the house of Hades, O lady, beautiful as thegoddesses, once I had gone up to your bed.'

(ll. 155-167) So speaking, he caught her by the hand. Andlaughter-loving Aphrodite, with face turned away and lovely eyesdowncast, crept to the well-spread couch which was already laidwith soft coverings for the hero; and upon it lay skins of bearsand deep-roaring lions which he himself had slain in the highmountains. And when they had gone up upon the well-fitted bed,first Anchises took off her bright jewelry of pins and twistedbrooches and earrings and necklaces, and loosed her girdle andstripped off her bright garments and laid them down upon asilver-studded seat. Then by the will of the gods and destiny helay with her, a mortal man with an immortal goddess, not clearlyknowing what he did.

(ll. 168-176) But at the time when the herdsmen driver their oxenand hardy sheep back to the fold from the flowery pastures, eventhen Aphrodite poured soft sleep upon Anchises, but herself puton her rich raiment. And when the bright goddess had fullyclothed herself, she stood by the couch, and her head reached tothe well-hewn roof-tree; from her cheeks shone unearthly beautysuch as belongs to rich-crowned Cytherea. Then she aroused himfrom sleep and opened her mouth and said:

(ll. 177-179) 'Up, son of Dardanus! -- why sleep you so heavily?-- and consider whether I look as I did when first you saw mewith your eyes.'

(ll. 180-184) So she spake. And he awoke in a moment and obeyedher. But when he saw the neck and lovely eyes of Aphrodite, hewas afraid and turned his eyes aside another way, hiding hiscomely face with his cloak. Then he uttered winged words andentreated her:

(ll. 185-190) 'So soon as ever I saw you with my eyes, goddess, Iknew that you were divine; but you did not tell me truly. Yet byZeus who holds the aegis I beseech you, leave me not to lead apalsied life among men, but have pity on me; for he who lies witha deathless goddess is no hale man afterwards.'

(ll. 191-201) Then Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus answered him:'Anchises, most glorious of mortal men, take courage and be nottoo fearful in your heart. You need fear no harm from me norfrom the other blessed ones, for you are dear to the gods: andyou shall have a dear son who shall reign among the Trojans, andchildren's children after him, springing up continually. Hisname shall be Aeneas (27), because I felt awful grief in that Ilaid me in the bed of mortal man: yet are those of your racealways the most like to gods of all mortal men in beauty and instature (28).

(ll. 202-217) 'Verily wise Zeus carried off golden-hairedGanymedes because of his beauty, to be amongst the Deathless Onesand pour drink for the gods in the house of Zeus -- a wonder tosee -- honoured by all the immortals as he draws the red nectarfrom the golden bowl. But grief that could not be soothed filledthe heart of Tros; for he knew not whither the heaven-sentwhirlwind had caught up his dear son, so that he mourned himalways, unceasingly, until Zeus pitied him and gave him high-stepping horses such as carry the immortals as recompense for hisson. These he gave him as a gift. And at the command of Zeus,the Guide, the slayer of Argus, told him all, and how his sonwould be deathless and unageing, even as the gods. So when Trosheard these tidings from Zeus, he no longer kept mourning butrejoiced in his heart and rode joyfully with his storm-footedhorses.

(ll. 218-238) 'So also golden-throned Eos rapt away Tithonus whowas of your race and like the deathless gods. And she went toask the dark-clouded Son of Cronos that he should be deathlessand live eternally; and Zeus bowed his head to her prayer andfulfilled her desire. Too simply was queenly Eos: she thoughtnot in her heart to ask youth for him and to strip him of theslough of deadly age. So while he enjoyed the sweet flower oflife he lived rapturously with golden-throned Eos, the early-born, by the streams of Ocean, at the ends of the earth; but whenthe first grey hairs began to ripple from his comely head andnoble chin, queenly Eos kept away from his bed, though shecherished him in her house and nourished him with food andambrosia and gave him rich clothing. But when loathsome old agepressed full upon him, and he could not move nor lift his limbs,this seemed to her in her heart the best counsel: she laid him ina room and put to the shining doors. There he babbles endlessly,and no more has strength at all, such as once he had in hissupple limbs.

(ll. 239-246) 'I would not have you be deathless among thedeathless gods and live continually after such sort. Yet if youcould live on such as now you are in look and in form, and becalled my husband, sorrow would not then enfold my careful heart.

But, as it is, harsh (29) old age will soon enshroud you --ruthless age which stands someday at the side of every man,deadly, wearying, dreaded even by the gods.

(ll. 247-290) 'And now because of you I shall have great shameamong the deathless gods henceforth, continually. For until nowthey feared my jibes and the wiles by which, or soon or late, Imated all the immortals with mortal women, making them allsubject to my will. But now my mouth shall no more have thispower among the gods; for very great has been my madness, mymiserable and dreadful madness, and I went astray out of my mindwho have gotten a child beneath my girdle, mating with a mortalman. As for the child, as soon as he sees the light of the sun,the deep-breasted mountain Nymphs who inhabit this great and holymountain shall bring him up. They rank neither with mortals norwith immortals: long indeed do they live, eating heavenly foodand treading the lovely dance among the immortals, and with themthe Sileni and the sharp-eyed Slayer of Argus mate in the depthsof pleasant caves; but at their birth pines or high-topped oaksspring up with them upon the fruitful earth, beautiful,flourishing trees, towering high upon the lofty mountains (andmen call them holy places of the immortals, and never mortal lopsthem with the axe); but when the fate of death is near at hand,first those lovely trees wither where they stand, and the barkshrivels away about them, and the twigs fall down, and at lastthe life of the Nymph and of the tree leave the light of the suntogether. These Nymphs shall keep my son with them and rear him,and as soon as he is come to lovely boyhood, the goddesses willbring him here to you and show you your child. But, that I maytell you all that I have in mind, I will come here again towardsthe fifth year and bring you my son. So soon as ever you haveseen him -- a scion to delight the eyes -- you will rejoice inbeholding him; for he shall be most godlike: then bring him atonce to windy Ilion. And if any mortal man ask you who got yourdear son beneath her girdle, remember to tell him as I bid you:say he is the offspring of one of the flower-like Nymphs whoinhabit this forest-clad hill. But if you tell all and foolishlyboast that you lay with ric

He calls himself Peter Pan and he's looking for a new Neverland. I feel him watching me thinking that I can't see. But the shadow that he can never quite catch always winks at me when he leaves.

I turn to sneak a peak but I always find he's already looking at me. I wonder how one can be young for eternity. Wouldn't it get rather lonely?

I saw him again and he finally said "hello."It was timid and shy but on the inside he's wild. I couldn't help myself from my toothy smile. There was nothing to say but "It took you a while."

We are going strong Peter and I.In my ear he'll whisper sweet nothings and desire. I'll just smile and kiss his pink lips. Because what's left to be desired when you live eternally fighting pirate ships.

Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ—righteousness from Him and peace with Him.I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands."I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight.

What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...

I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness"through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand."

Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who hasso meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones.

I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him.

There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of byany and all who would take hold of Him.

For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.#

Happy happy 9th month my love,,, i really wanna thank you for all you do for me,, a million poem is not enough to express how happy i am with you and how i love you so soo much,,i am so sorry for my imperfection... and i just wanna tell you that you are so perfect in my eyes,,, and you are the one i only want and need... i thank you for the prayers.. i thank you for always inspiring me, i thank you for understanding me, for caring for me, for being so kind to me, for always loving me, for not giving up on me, for being patient on me, for ALL YOU DO I WANNA THANK YOU. I want you to know you are the best thing that happened in my life... you are such a big blessing to me,,, and you are my happiness, my comfort, my refuge, my inspirer, my motivator, my best friend, my love, my soulmate, my uplifter, my everything , my all.. just wanna remind you I LOVE YOU SSOO SOOO MUCCHH!!! SSOOO SOOO SOO MUCCHH!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3

Story by: YidhnaWritten in Chinese By: Yidhna Yue and Ezio FuTranslated in Full by Yidhna

1.“Light and Darkness”Another mythThe MonomythSymphony of a warA war of the lightand DarkA war in the mythMyth of the black mothsMyth of the firefliesFrom the beginning ofThe universeThat which is also the end of timeLife, like the phoenixes,Ends end with new life

For light and for darknessFor love and for destruction I am a knightI am a knightFor light and for darknessFor love and for destructionI am a dynastI am a dynast

Stars, as heaven sent GuardiansFall from the skyAs snow flakes fall from the skyFall to the their rebirthFall to their renaissanceas FirefliesFireflies of the righteous pathFireflies of lightThey will returnas stars in the night skyFor light and for darknessFor love and for destruction I am a knightI am a knightFor light and for darknessFor love and for destructionI am a dynastI am a dynast

From swamps of darknessFlows the corruptedIn the caves of darknessIn the forms of black mothsTarring the world with the wickednesswithout heart without hopeRebirth in the nightWithout lightFor light and for darknessFor love and for destruction I am a knightI am a knightFor light and for darknessFor love and for destructionI am a dynastI am a dynast

For light and for darknessFor love and for destruction I am a knightI am a knightFor light and for darknessFor love and for destructionI am a dynastI am a dynast

2.“The Fireflies”Without hope, who yet lives?Within darkness, who yet saves?Flames of light?Flames of heart?Or faith, and loyalty to faithWhen IrisesNo longer shinesWhen golden armorsScars like fleshThey will still use bloodTo light up beliefand bravely awaits the new dawnFallen from the starsThey are the warriorsThey are the saviorsThey are the firefliesThey are the firefliesIn love they will return as star lightsIn death they will return as star lightsIn death they will return as star lightsTime endless War eternalLight and darkness mourn for peaceLight, fireflies,andHeaven sent star lightsUnder the dark nightsWhen time diesWhen time endsLosing its dark and lightThe fireflies still singSing toward a path to truthLiving in faith, living in loveLiving in the rebirth, renaissanceAs stars from the skyFallen from the starsThey are the warriorsThey are the saviorsThey are the firefliesThey are the firefliesIn love they will return as star lightsIn death they will return as star lightsIn death they will return as star lightsGuardians of the righteous pathGuardians of the righteous lightMessengers of life: The firefliesThey are the starsThey are the starsFallen starsWhen the green lightLoses its shineWhen the flames of the firefliesLoses its fading lightThey will return to the heavensReturn to the skyLike the legend of phoenixHope reborn with lightThe promised hope in the starry night

3.“The Black Moth”There’s love for the darknessLove for their own kindThere’s hate for them tooHate for the enemiesThe black moth are born from shadowsThe black moth will die into shadowsShadowed in the forms of Black mothsThe flee with flightThen rebirth when diedAs shadows of the Night(Light)We are born from the darknessMolded into the nightWe will live within the cycleWe are the black mothsWe are the black mothsBorne out of the shadowsAs we live and dieAs shadows of the dark nightsDifferent eyesSees a different worldIf it never wasHow can one say anything at allWho to tell from right and wrongWhen both light and dark are the purestWhen all weapons only hinderWhen all pride could only be humbleWhen you no longer look backI will still followWe are born from the darknessMolded into the nightWe will live within the cycleWe are the black mothsWe are the black mothsBorne out of the shadowsAs we live and dieAs shadows of the dark nightsHe doesn’t need loveTo live lovelyHe doesn’t need lightTo feel proudJust the opposite lightJust a prodigy’s rightBravery in the darknessFor no one’s praisesWhen the light comesIn the last minuteWe will vanish in peaceWe are born from the darknessMolded into the nightWe will live within the cycleWe are the black mothsWe are the black mothsBorne out of the shadowsAs we live and dieAs shadows of the dark nightsWe are born from the darknessMolded into the nightWe will live within the cycleWe are the black mothsWe are the black mothsBorne out of the shadowsAs we live and dieAs shadows of the dark nights

4.“The Red Firefly”Born between light and darknessI am an outsiderTo this worldTo timeTo deathTo darknessTo lightI am AndorhousA messenger with a missionTo save timeI am AndorhousThe Red FireflyThe result of a mistake in timeI was born between two worldsBirthed in Night and LightI am the red fireflyI am the Hero of TimeI am AndorhousThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyBecause of my birthThe Goddess of TimeHelyhna was never bornTime returnsandAll will dieAt the Final BattleBetween Light and DarkI am AndorhousAn error that brought the world’s endI am AndorhousI need to stop my birthI was born between two worldsBirthed in Night and LightI am the red fireflyI am the Hero of TimeI am AndorhousThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyFor I am an outsiderI can see what they refuse to believeI understand the beginningI understand the endI understand the mistake I madeI am AndorhousI will make my sacrificeI am AndorhousI will use a moment to bring back eternityI will use a moment to bring back ImmortalityI was born between two worldsBirthed in Night and LightI am the red fireflyI am the Hero of TimeI am AndorhousThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyI was born between two worldsBirthed in Night and LightI am the red fireflyI am the Hero of TimeI am AndorhousThe Red FireflyThe Red FireflyThe Red Firefly5.“Guardian of Time”HelyhnaThe Goddess of LightThe Guardian of TimeThe Eternal AngelShe was suppose to be bornAt the beginning of timeTo end timeShe is the princess ofThe Firefly Queen and KingShe stopped and imprisoned timeSo life livesEternallyHowever, a mistake made in timeA mysterious red light fallen from the skySuddenly raced toward the palaceAnd caused another creation to emergeInsteadThat creation was AndorhousHe who was birthed between dark and lightWhere are you, Guardian?Where are you, HelyhnaInstead Andorhous BornBorn from Darkness and LightTorn from Darkness and LightWhere’s the GuardianWhere’s our GuardianShe who’s the GuardianShe who’s our GuardianGuardian of TimeThunder roaringClouds soaringEndless darknessEndless bloodTearing the skyTearing timeWhen blood flows to the edge of the river deathWhen corrosion follows the dark endNo knights to guardNo light at the rim of the cloudsListen to the people mourningLook at the innocent witheringWho will protect usWho will lead us out of the darknessWhere are you, Guardian?Where are you, HelyhnaInstead Andorhous BornBorn from Darkness and LightTorn from Darkness and LightWhere’s the GuardianWhere’s our GuardianShe who’s the GuardianShe who’s our GuardianGuardian of TimeThe sky darkeningWorlds EndingEndless battlesEndless woundsBattle to the endJudgement at the endOnly the guardian AngelCan bring peace back to the motherlandWhere are you, Guardian?Where are you, HelyhnaInstead Andorhous BornBorn from Darkness and LightTorn from Darkness and LightWhere’s the GuardianWhere’s our GuardianShe who’s the GuardianShe who’s our GuardianGuardian of TimeWhere are you, Guardian?Where are you, HelyhnaInstead Andorhous BornBorn from Darkness and LightTorn from Darkness and LightWhere’s the GuardianWhere’s our GuardianShe who’s the GuardianShe who’s our GuardianGuardian of Time

6.“The Choice”Parallel universeAnother timelineHelyhnaShe said to meBecause of my Transtemporal birthShe doesn’t exist in my worldBecause of the appearance of timeEternity will dieBecause of the Final Battle of Dark and LightAll will dieBecause of me, the Red FireflyDeath or ImprisonmentWhat Do I chooseWhat Do I chooseHelyhna or DarknessWhat do I doWhat do I do“Just an insect among lifeWhat could I doIf all diesI too will meet my demise”Helyhna said calmly“You can stop your birth”“You will go backStop that falling red lightIn the paradoxOne version of you will dieAnd this you will be my imprisoned time.”Death or ImprisonmentWhat Do I chooseWhat Do I chooseHelyhna or DarknessWhat do I doWhat do I doDeath or ImprisonmentWhat Do I chooseWhat Do I chooseHelyhna or DarknessWhat do I doWhat do I do

7.“The Final Battle”In my hesitanceThe skyMaraudedThe shadows of dark and lightLeaving only a rip of emptinessNothinglessIn space and TimeThe stars are shutting down their lightsThe black moths and shadows are swallowed aliveAll creatures are torn betweenThe ocean of sea and bloodI have decidedI stand correctedI will bring back peaceI will bring back eternityFor the Guardian of TimeFor the Guardian of TimeWhen silence in the airAre broken by the screams of DarknessWhen the remaining brightnessAre swallowed by the ripIn space and timeWhen two worlds are being swallowed by emptinessI have decidedI stand correctedI will bring back peaceI will bring back eternityFor the Guardian of TimeFor the Guardian of TimeBut, I could only remember HerThe guardian of timeI remember her countenanceI remember her pleading helplessnessI decided to go back to the beginning of timePrevent my erred birthStop the mysterious red lightAndReturn the GuardianTo Eternal LifeI have decidedI stand correctedI will bring back peaceI will bring back eternityFor the Guardian of TimeFor the Guardian of TimeI have decidedI stand correctedI will bring back peaceI will bring back eternityFor the Guardian of TimeFor the Guardian of Time

8.“I will stop time”

There’s only this wayAn inevitable wayYielding or fearingWhich is the tragic flawYou look through the worldWith a layer of tearsand have chosen the wayBecause only through this choiceYou see beauty of the eternal daysFor love and For timeFor darkness and for LightI will create my unbirthI will stop TimeI will stop TimeI will stop TimeFor the GuardianThe Guardian of TimeI still remember Helyhna’s wordsPrisoner or FreedomWhy choose ImprisonmentBecause you don’t just have the darknessBut also the conscience of the lightYou will always be an outsider toBoth dark and lightBut youYou are TimeAnd II am the guardian of timeFor love and For timeFor darkness and for LightI will create my unbirthI will stop TimeI will stop TimeI will stop TimeFor the GuardianThe Guardian of TimeFor love and For timeFor darkness and for LightI will create my unbirthI will stop TimeI will stop TimeI will stop TimeFor the GuardianThe Guardian of Time

9.“The Prisoner of Life”Andorhous lives beyond timeI can travel through time and spaceBecause I’m living within the error of eternityBecause I am that errorI am the limit, I am timeI flew toward the birth of HelyhnaTo wait for the falling red lightWhen I finally realizedI am that red lightI caused my birthI Surrender I Yield to EternityI am Time as I stopped TimeI am Time An anomalyI am Time A PrisonerPrisoner of HelyhnaThe GuardianMy GuardianGuardian of TimeGuardian of LifeI suddenly stopped flyingI finally realized that in thisWheel of a storylineI am that cause of abnormalityI caused my erred birthNow that Helyhna’s safe bornI stayed in this timelineAndBecame TimeOrPrisoner of HelyhnaThe Guardian of TimeI Surrender I Yield to EternityI am Time as I stopped TimeI am Time An anomalyI am Time A PrisonerPrisoner of HelyhnaThe GuardianMy GuardianGuardian of TimeGuardian of LifeI am the narratorI am the protagonistI am the villainI am the heroI am TimeI am the prisoner ofThe Guardian of TimeI Surrender I Yield to EternityI am Time as I stopped TimeI am Time An anomalyI am Time A PrisonerPrisoner of HelyhnaThe GuardianMy GuardianGuardian of TimeGuardian of LifeI Surrender I Yield to EternityI am Time as I stopped TimeI am Time An anomalyI am Time A PrisonerPrisoner of HelyhnaThe GuardianMy GuardianGuardian of TimeGuardian of Life

Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimesBeene to me ayding, others to adorne,Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,That even the greatest did not greatly scorneTo heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,But joyèd in theyr praise;And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,And teach the woods and waters to lamentYour dolefull dreriment:Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound;Ne let the same of any be envide:So Orpheus did for his owne bride!So I unto my selfe alone will sing;The woods shall to me answer, and my Eccho ring.

Early, before the worlds light-giving lampeHis golden beame upon the hils doth spred,Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe,Doe ye awake; and, with fresh *****-hed,Go to the bowre of my belovèd love,My truest turtle dove;Bid her awake; for ***** is awake,And long since ready forth his maske to move,With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake,And many a bachelor to waite on him,In theyr fresh garments trim.Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight,For lo! the wishèd day is come at last,That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,Pay to her usury of long delight:And, whylest she doth her dight,Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heareBoth of the rivers and the forrests greene,And of the sea that neighbours to her neare:Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.And let them also with them bring in handAnother gay girlandFor my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,Bound truelove wize, with a blew silke riband.And let them make great store of bridale poses,And let them eeke bring store of other flowers,To deck the bridale bowers.And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,And diapred lyke the discolored mead.Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,For she will waken strayt;The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,The woods shall to you answer, and your Eccho ring.

Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heedThe silver scaly trouts doe tend full well,And greedy pikes which use therein to feed;(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell;)And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake,Where none doo fishes take;Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,And in his waters, which your mirror make,Behold your faces as the christall bright,That when you come whereas my love doth lie,No blemish she may spie.And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the deere,That on the hoary mountayne used to towre;And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer;Be also present heere,To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Wake now, my love, awake! for it is time;The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed,All ready to her silver coche to clyme;And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed.Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laiesAnd carroll of Loves praise.The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft;The Thrush replyes; the Mavis descant playes;The Ouzell shrills; the Ruddock warbles soft;So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,To this dayes merriment.Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long?When meeter were that ye should now awake,T’ awayt the comming of your joyous make,And hearken to the birds love-learnèd song,The deawy leaves among!Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing,That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.

My love is now awake out of her dreames,And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmèd wereWith darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beamsMore bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,Helpe quickly her to dight:But first come ye fayre houres, which were begotIn Joves sweet paradice of Day and Night;Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot,And al, that ever in this world is fayre,Doe make and still repayre:And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene,The which doe still adorne her beauties pride,Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride:And, as ye her array, still throw betweeneSome graces to be seene;And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring.

Now is my love all ready forth to come:Let all the virgins therefore well awayt:And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome,Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt.Set all your things in seemely good aray,Fit for so joyfull day:The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see.Faire Sun! shew forth thy favourable ray,And let thy lifull heat not fervent be,For feare of burning her sunshyny face,Her beauty to disgrace.O fayrest Phoebus! father of the Muse!If ever I did honour thee aright,Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight,Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse;But let this day, let this one day, be myne;Let all the rest be thine.Then I thy soverayne prayses loud wil sing,That all the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloudTheir merry Musick that resounds from far,The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud,That well agree withouten breach or jar.But, most of all, the Damzels doe deliteWhen they their tymbrels smyte,And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,That all the sences they doe ravish quite;The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce,As if it were one voyce,*****, iö *****, *****, they do shout;That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrillDoth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;To which the people standing all about,As in approvance, doe thereto applaud,And loud advaunce her laud;And evermore they *****, ***** sing,That al the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,Lyke Phoebe, from her chamber of the East,Arysing forth to run her mighty race,Clad all in white, that seemes a ****** best.So well it her beseemes, that ye would weeneSome angell she had beene.Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene,Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre;And, being crownèd with a girland greene,Seeme lyke some mayden Queene.Her modest eyes, abashèd to beholdSo many gazers as on her do stare,Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud,So farre from being proud.Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye seeSo fayre a creature in your towne before;So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store?Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,Her forehead yvory white,Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,Her paps lyke lyllies budded,Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre;And all her body like a pallace fayre,Ascending up, with many a stately stayre,To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,Upon her so to gaze,Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring?

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,The inward beauty of her lively spright,Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree,Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,And stand astonisht lyke to those which redMedusaes mazeful hed.There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity,Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood,Regard of honour, and mild modesty;There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,And giveth lawes alone,The which the base affections doe obay,And yeeld theyr services unto her will;Ne thought of thing uncomely ever mayThereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures,And unrevealèd pleasures,Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring.

Open the temple gates unto my love,Open them wide that she may enter in,And all the postes adorne as doth behove,And all the pillours deck with girlands trim,For to receyve this Saynt with honour dew,That commeth in to you.With trembling steps, and humble reverence,She commeth in, before th’ Almighties view;Of her ye virgins learne obedience,When so ye come into those holy places,To humble your proud faces:Bring her up to th’ high altar, that she mayThe sacred ceremonies there partake,The which do endlesse matrimony make;And let the roring Organs loudly playThe praises of the Lord in lively notes;The whiles, with hollow throates,The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing,That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring.

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,And blesseth her with his two happy hands,How the red roses flush up in her cheekes,And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayneLike crimsin dyde in grayne:That even th’ Angels, which continuallyAbout the sacred Altare doe remaine,Forget their service and about her fly,Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre,The more they on it stare.But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,Are governèd with goodly modesty,That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,Which may let in a little thought unsownd.Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand,The pledge of all our band!Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing,That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.

Now al is done: bring home the bride againe;Bring home the triumph of our victory:Bring home with you the glory of her gaine;With joyance bring her and with jollity.Never had man more joyfull day then this,Whom heaven would heape with blis,Make feast therefore now all this live-long day;This day for ever to me holy is.Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,Poure out to all that wull,And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,And ***** also crowne with wreathes of vine;And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,For they can doo it best:The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring.

Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,And leave your wonted labors for this day:This day is holy; doe ye write it downe,That ye for ever it remember may.This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight,With Barnaby the bright,From whence declining daily by degrees,He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,When once the Crab behind his back he sees.But for this time it ill ordainèd was,To chose the longest day in all the yeare,And shortest night, when longest fitter weare:Yet never day so long, but late would passe.Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,And bonefiers make all day;And daunce about them, and about them sing,That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Ah! when will this long weary day have end,And lende me leave to come unto my love?How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend?How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home,Within the Westerne fome:Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest.Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,And the bright evening-star with golden creastAppeare out of the East.Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love!That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead,And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread,How chearefully thou lookest from above,And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,As joying in the sightOf these glad many, which for joy doe sing,That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring!

Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past;Enough it is that all the day was youres:Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast,Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.The night is come, now soon her disaray,And in her bed her lay;Lay her in lillies and in violets,And silken courteins over her display,And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets.Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,In proud humility!Like unto Maia, when as Jove her tookIn Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,And leave my love alone,And leave likewise your former lay to sing:The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected,That long daies labour doest at last defray,And all my cares, which cruell Love collected,Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye:Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,That no man may us see;And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,From feare of perrill and foule horror free.Let no false treason seeke us to entrap,Nor any dread disquiet once annoyThe safety of our joy;But let the night be calme, and quietsome,Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay,When he begot the great Tirynthian groome:Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lieAnd begot Majesty.And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing;Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring.

But let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe,That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves,Like divers-fethered doves,Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,And in the secret darke, that none reproves,Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spreadTo filch away sweet snatches of delight,Conceald through covert night.Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will!For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes,Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.All night therefore attend your merry play,For it will soone be day:Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing;Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peepes?Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright?Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,But walkes about high heaven al the night?O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envyMy love with me to spy:For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,And for a fleece of wooll, which privilyThe Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,His pleasures with thee wrought.Therefore to us be favorable now;And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,And generation goodly dost enlarge,Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow,And the chast wombe informe with timely seedThat may our comfort breed:Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing;Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring.

And thou, great Juno! which with awful mightThe lawes of wedlock still dost patronize;And the religion of the faith first plightWith sacred rites hast taught to solemnize;And eeke for comfort often callèd artOf women in their smart;Eternally bind thou this lovely band,And all thy blessings unto us impart.And thou, glad

I'm in great depressionin life that is my main obsessionit holds me like I am their own possessionwants me to say "I'm fine" instead of my real emotionkeeps my feelings with successioncomes out of nowhere & attacks me with such aggressiononly leads me to one directionsadness, madness, numbness, & no other kind of expressionI tried to say my confessionof how it goes through progressionat times it gives me an impressionthat I'll be better soon, instead I am left with its *******also tells my mind to have some sessionspeaks to me all about my imperfectionit gets scary in there with all the tensionsaying I am some sort of infectionthat needs to be a suspensioneternally telling me a suggestionfor all it wants to mentionis to end it all & leave everyone out with no some sort of connectionso it will leave me hanging with no protectionto vanish myself in front of a mirror & see my own reflectionof how I'm not such a great exceptionand I'm not at all a perfection

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,across the chasmed centuries gone past,he calls her name; it never quite arrivesto fall upon her ear. Just at the last,she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.The fading echoes rebound, fall, despairupon the careless ground, alone who knowshow many times he's haunted up her stairsand stood before her door, unwilling handhung limply at his side. The heavy yearspassed by them both again; he hadn't plannedthat they would not meet. This chance disappears to speak the truth they're cursed to know so well;two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.The pas de deux began in ancient courtof a small city-state. He is a knightsent by his Queen, a diplomatic sortof mission. At a banquet hosted bythe local King, the knight, while taking inwho might be helpful or a hindrance spiesa shaken mane of gold, blue eyes withinher stunning face, a mask of ennuiuntil she meets his eyes. An eyebrow lifts,a corner of her mouth curls up, unseenby all save the old man beside. He shifts,and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;returned. You want each other? Very well!So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.She will be linked to you, eternallyyours, to have, to hold and never love;to consummate and quench your lust will beyour death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!I hereby mate your everlasting souls;condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,passion's heat incinerates you whole.You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.You'll die for her; she'll draw you to her kneesacross uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seasuncounted years of wandering, he seeksasylum from the memory of her eyes.The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,wildest fingers raking skin from back,ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lackwhatever power it would take to smashhis crushing need. An aching pilgrimage,life spent in shameless chase to slake the lustimposed by jealous wizard in his rage.Now weak and old, he walks alone through dustand sandstorm, seeking solace, final restin desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breathshe oversees construction of her tomb.Her father started it; upon his death,she left the mage to build the solemn roomof memory. The waves of slaves pour sweatin rivers onto stones, their muscles screamand ripple in the undulating heat.Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseenby all but she. She mounts and rides to bringsome water, some relief. When their eyes meet,their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,his failing body falls about her feet.They're found again, and still there's no release; not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;she lived another twenty years beyond.His final gaze of longing gave no peace,but chained her in the everlasting bondof arcane condemnation. Her ****** heartis pierced by passing seconds, every onea blunted needle, mildly poisoned dartnot strong enough to stop her pulse's run.The mage's gift to her: the agonyof life remembering her lover's kiss,then a death too short to set her free.It sends her toward another fatal tryst,spun round again the universe's width;their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,a dance with destiny. They wake againto unfamiliar bodies, unknown pathsmeandering across the haunted plainof time. A muddy pasture, half a millionblissful stoners join in raucous song:"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run****** lovers who can do no wrong,all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smackruns out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;he huddles close, awaiting the next stackof Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.She cries and rocks his body, they will spoonthroughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoonas heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,cooler air meets skin on fire, a boonto Magdalene and lover. The sweet oilwashes off, the rain obscures the soundof marching feet. Centurions approachand ****** him from her side. "So now you're foundbeside this one, whose last ride gave us suchan evil time. We strung him up, but nowhis body's gone, and you were seen besidethe tomb. You'll die just like he did and how."She watched another man be crucified.Supported by her love, in peace he passedbetween first breath of spring and winter's last.

Between first breath of spring and winter's last,the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloomis laid out for the party. Every faceis rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,Vive le roi! One teasing courtierseduces a queen's guard to leave his post.Behind a hedge, they make love unawareof peasants, women milling through the gatein search of bread and royal blood, not cake.He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;the mob will **** for revolution's sake.The oaks a silent witness to his doomin autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sunupon the biodomes. Earth shines down, ruinedby man's neglect, what could not be undone.The population by law zero sum;resource conservation held abovethe joy of new life. Parents here must cometo know the anguish of requited love.She bears his child; they knew too well the chancethey took. The court will force a choice be made:the father or the child. A tear, a glanceas he's locked out. She watches as he fadesin cryogenic punishment, life lashedto winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fasther soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleettoward her cloistered cell. One chilling blastwraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind preventsher gaining purchase on the frozen ground.From monastery cot, the monk could sensedistress. In thin burnoose he dashed and foundher, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her upand rushed her to the hearth. His warm embracebrings on familiar heat. Their pasts stirred up,relived, decision made within a trace: "'Tis best this time we live, and never start."Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;the aching need grows stronger day by day.He tends her failing health without regardto duty, vows. Her weak voice strains to say,"I will be gone before you this time. Hearme out; this may be what we need to breakour curse. Stay with me as my time grows near;and love me as the Reaper comes to takemy soul, and finish with me after Ihave left. God will forgive sins we'll commitfor man alone has ****** us. We must tryor curse ourselves, continue to submitto endless pain, remain just as we are:connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,they cling to every moment here and now;the priceless beating of her failing heart,his passions roil out in unending flow.He gazes deep in her eternal eyesas they glaze over, looking past his faceinto the hollow stare of death. She liessuspended between life and time and space,to hear an old, familiar voice sound inher ears. "To dance with death before himas you rut...how clever! Most astoundingthat you'd carry out this futile whim.He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines,in wistful sojourn through a thousand lives."

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.They trip light-years fantastic side by sideBound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell.Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,In desert's scalding carborundum breathNot even end of life can bring surcease;Their love a measured minuet with death.Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon,Between first breath of spring and winter's last,In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,To winter's icy shackles holding fast;Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

For those of you who bought the book...many thanks. I'd like some of my newer readers to know what I've done.

Today, the words came to meWrapped in their exclusive fineryReady to take me with themOn a tour of the unknown alleysOf my heart, not visited by meEach word is a guide, leading meTowards the core of gratitudeBeing an avid travelerI was yet to take this journeyWith childlike glee I read each wordFeelings which lay unexpressedWere touched by the magic messageLike each new day brings fresh hopeEach word spoke with such graceThe roots of joy are rejuvenatedAnd springs to blossom eternallyTo greet me with varied colorsOf happiness, gratitude and hopeLiving each day in wonderSoft morning light ushers new dayGratitude in my prayerBefore I start a brand new day

You are my beat,a part of me on permanent repeat.Just the thought of when our eyes meet,gives me an an elation of pure defeat.

Nothing more to do than just be,no biased judgement on what we see.Just our minds set eternally entwined and free,black-white, hate-love, up-down, agree-disagree.I wouldn't change a thing about you, me... We.

From the external beat, to the inner workings of my heart,you've made a special place from the start.Close, touching, or far apart,God has painted our paths on the same piece of art.

Even when one thousand pictures cannot tell the story in your eyes,there's no disguise, no part of you that lies.My soul slowly opens, loves, and cries,for the chapter that may lead to the demise,of all walls, opening possibilities in the heavens and skies.

The countenance of flowing salty tears liberating release , vast ocean's raw sheets of saltwater spray would not hide .He just sat and stared at the seaward horizon while the telltale tears flowed, perhaps an unspoken dream of a merciful final surrender with eyes wide open, love steering our vessel west where sun shines to set ; now far beyond the visible ache, for mine own eyes blur trepidation teardrops rained as sheets of frothing sea.

There is an oppressive weight found within paternal understanding, and yet, as certain as the dawn promises the inevitable setting sun ; all things must pass as sure as all things begin ,someone you love most, longest in short life , has come forth to break bread at sea as the torch is passed , sharing life for the last time comes too soon ― with little warning ...

There was an emotional unidentifiable hollow pang brooding , as if letting go gradually, yet potentially instantly, that drains every last drop of a breaking heart ache ; waning strength swallows down hard ― stifled sighs ― lumps in throats, words better left unsaid ― only cleansing tears flow, knowing when they start to purge, they might not want to stop again.

This moment's final autumn’s changing season’s waning ebb That final riptide will forevermore change all other rivers’ flowwhere oceans set mother earth's rivers free until the end of time ...

My father ― a man's man who seemed to find a peaceful Zen ; an unfinished life was reborn that day to see it throughas my hands grasped the wheel , compass held steady.The son to carry on the weight of love and compassionate understanding ;love born in the blood inspired the fortitude to carry on. As a life flashed before my eyes on that final raging Pacific sea,instincts mused by ancient Tyees’ souls stirred drawning sun's radiant rays of perception ; accepting this life on earth would never be the same but would just simply be , knowing this light's shine will never glow quite the same again ,yet radiate a more deeply vivid luminosity...

We melded into that first day of Autumn, falling silent , and yet our heads held highThere was nothing left to be done but pray with eyes wide open

“spirits of all oceans of mother earth … show the sacred salmon's tragic heroism, the way back home to peaceful waters”

Few words were spoken as everything was silently said.

"To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose, under Heaven"

Post Script:With fondest loving memories of my father's life and times shared~So much of this day's memory is deeply repressed and each year I try to free a little bit more but each year passed has been privately circle filed, yet I try again to be set free.. Purging emotions so intense that they are nearly blacked out... I did not realize the basis of depth until later private moments... It was in fact the day of the Autumn Equinox a few years ago, a final birthday celebration of sorts combined with bringing the Boston Whaler Outrage, home. Dad passed 1 week later after this trip from Pancreatic cancer ...we spend the final 72 hours alone together at Hospice after his birthday..."Crossing Over"

Not unlike myself, there was an inherent restlessness to my father. We found a peace, unlike any other ― one with nature. He used to like to say he felt at home on the ocean. He went out as many as 30-40 miles alone on the rare occasion the Tuna came that close to the NW Oregon ― SW Washington coast...That may not seem like much in land miles, but you cannot see land from that distance and the Columbia River's confluence with the Pacific Ocean is known as one of the most dangerous bar crossings in the world. I thought Dad's life would have a very different ending...this one never crossed my mind, letting go is far more difficult than hanging on ― rivers

The GOOD NEWS that God has done for us what we could NEVER do for ourselves by sending His own Son to become a man, Christ Jesus, to live a perfectly righteous life in complete fulfillment of God’s holy law and to die for our sins on the cross as our substitutionary sacrifice (“the righteous for the unrighteous”), bearing and satisfying the just wrath of God deserved by us ALL (for against Him our hearts are eachnaturally and treasonously rebellious), and resurrecting Him from the dead so that THROUGH FAITH IN JESUS we can be saved from the penalty of our sinful rebellion (eternal damnation and separation from the grace of God) and saved from the power of our sinful rebellion to instead live a NEW LIFE in intimate relationship with Him, surrendered now to Him, with all of our sins forgiven, covered with His own perfect righteousness because of His complete and finished workfor which we who believe receive a full credit, and therefore (by grace alone) in perfect standing and unchanging acceptance before God in His holiness, at peace with the Father wholly, indwelt and empowered by God's Spirit to live for Him and His glory and His kingdom, now and eternally.

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”~ 1 John 4:10

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind… The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth… ’…the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!’” ~ John 1:1-4,14,29b

“God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.”~ 2 Corinthians 5:21

“Surely He took up our painand bore our suffering,yet we considered Him punished by God,stricken by Him, and afflicted.But He was pierced for our transgressions,He was crushed for our iniquities;the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,and by His wounds we are healed.We all, like sheep, have gone astray,each of us has turned to our own way;and the LORD has laid on Himthe iniquity of us all.”~ Isaiah 53:4-6

“He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification. Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.”~ Romans 4:25-5:2

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life… Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on them.”~ John 3:16,36